Sun and Beer and You and Me
by harmless-mostly
Summary: "Well," says Roxas, picking studiously at a hole in his shoe, "I was thinking… t-that you and me could go together." Roxas and Lea graduate high school Australian style, so sue me . Roxas/girlAxel!Lea. AU. het. for roterhimmel -hearts-


For roterhimmel. I mad love you bb. Congratulations on getting your abitur! I don't know anything about German graduating and I wouldn't want to screw it up, so… this is unashamedly Australian. ^^;

Warnings: swearing, drinking, and Australian words (gasp)

* * *

"Well," says Roxas, picking studiously at a hole in his shoe, "I was thinking… t-that you and me could go together."

Lea's eyes are boring into his skull. "I thought we agreed that the formal was a meaningless event designed to give the social elite one last chance to flaunt their perfection, and to force poor students to spend astronomical amounts on uncomfortable clothes they'll only wear once in a sad attempt to keep up with societal expectations."

She's sprawled out on her back, confident and lazy, legs dangling off the edge of the stone wall. Roxas works the tip of his finger into the hole. "Yeah… but. Don't you think, well, we only graduate high school once…" Lea's eyes narrow. "Okay! My mum really wants me to go, all right?"

Her laughing drives him to his feet, face burning. "Whatever, you know, it's not like we have to take someone. I just. I don't know." _I thought you might want to go. I thought you might want to go with me._

A long, lanky arm yanks him back down; his tailbone crunches against the edge of the wall and he hisses. "Hey," she says, "I wouldn't let you face them on your own now, would I? What kind of best friend would that make me?"

She's giving him that smirk, that _you can't do anything without me _smirk, as much a part of Roxas' childhood as scraped knees and ice cream.

* * *

There's something about Lea's hands on the steering wheel, long fingers casually drumming against the black leather, that Roxas likes. Guiding the battered old ute easily over the faded brown bitumen, cruising around the potholes like second nature. His mother is always worrying worrying worrying about the 'teenage road death toll', but Roxas just snorts. He's more jittery when he drives with _her_.

"Urk, hate the sun at this time of day. At least it's cooling down. Can you pass me my sunnies?" Lea asks, and Roxas scrabbles on the floor until he finds the aviators in their case, under a pile of google-map printouts.

"What's all this?" He asks, sifting through a few as she slides the wire frames under the blood-red hair above her ears. "Gold Coast…?"

"Oh, nah. It's, you know. Schoolies is coming up, thought I may as well check some places out."

"Schoolies?" He asks, incredulously. "I thought we agreed that schoolies was just an excuse for stupid alcho kids to get wasted for a whole week while the tourism industry bleeds their hard-earned money from them on over-priced accommodation in overrated cities?"

"Well," she says, and is she a little pink or is it just the glow of the sun? "I thought it might be all right. We could road trip down there, have a good time. You really worked your guts out this term. Beach and beer? Hell yeah," and she laughs. "You're probably right, though. Gold Coast is overrated."

Roxas can't quite believe it. A week of sun and sand with Lea really does sound good, when she puts it like that. And yeah, he has worked hard. "Well… well. We could go somewhere a bit closer? …Agnes?"

"Agnes Waters? Hmm… that near Bundy?"

"I dunno. We'll have to look it up."

She turns her head slightly, and he wishes she wasn't wearing those giant aviators that hid half her expression. "So… you'll come with me?"

"Of course!" tumbles out of his mouth, and he can see the corner of her mouth curve into a smile. "I mean, yeah, bring it on!"

The road ahead looks almost endless, sunset-tinged paddocks spreading to the horizon on either side.

* * *

"Augh Roxas, whyyy did I agree to this… Oh I hate you. You just bat those baby blues and I have to say yes. Yes! To the _formal_ oh god. What am I meant to wear?"

"A dress?" Roxas ventures, watching Lea pace her bedroom floor. She gives him a flat look.

"A dress. Really? Really, Roxas? Have you ever seen me wear a dress _ever?_"

"Well… yeah. You used to all the time, when you were a kid."

"But those things were _awful._ They made me look like a giraffe-clown… thing. I have photographic evidence, you know."

Roxas privately remembers differently, but he doesn't say so. "Just come back here and look, why don't you." He pats the bed beside him. She peers dubiously over his shoulder instead, at the laptop screen.

"Roxas, you googled 'dress'."

"I don't know much about this shit okay!" He growls, closing the window with a stab of his finger. "Why don't you go ask Naminé? She wears dresses all the time."

"I don't _want_ to go ask Naminé. I don't _want_ to wear a dress. Argh, it's too hot. I need a beer. You want one?"

Roxas can't help but laugh. She's in one of those moods at the moment, and he knows he has to run with her or he'll get lost. "Yeah sure," he says, even though he doesn't like beer, not really. Yet. He'll get used to it, though. Everyone does.

Lea has, ages ago. She grabs one from the chipped old mini-fridge in the corner, accidentally knocking off some tacky plastic magnets, which she kicks into the dusty space underneath.

He catches the beer, savours the feel of the condensation on his sweaty skin.

"Okay," she says, cracking her beer, "let's have another look."

Three stubbies later and he's lying on his back, staring at the stain on the ceiling, the one that he says looks like an A but she says looks like a penguin. How the hell she sees a penguin he doesn't know and geez he feels hot right now, all buzzy and sleepy. Roxas doesn't mind beer, not really.

"You know what," Lea says suddenly, and he remembers her head is down near his stomach. He wants to put a hand into her rough red hair, but he thinks that would be a bad idea. His face gets warm. "You know what? I think I'm jus' gonna wear a nice suit like you. Yanno? Yeah. Fuck this dress shit, I don't even. I don't even care. Yanno? It would be so weird."

"Y-yeah. That would be like, like me wearing a dress," Roxas says, trying to picture it.

"Haha, you mean like we swap? No? Man, I don't even understand you. You shouldn't drink." She laughs and hits his stomach with the back of her hand. He feels it lying there, too warm. "Lightweight."

"Shaddap," he mumbles, and pushes her head, sliding his fingers into her sweaty hair. Letting go doesn't cross his mind.

* * *

It is so fucking hot and Roxas thinks he is going to die. Who the hell came up with this stupid tradition? Suits in summer? Fancy cars with no air con? (Even though Cloud apologised.) He remembers it's his own damn fault for letting his mum nag him into going. Then he glances over at Lea and remembers why.

She's wearing a suit, black dress pants tight around her hips, flaring slightly at the ends of her long legs. The jacket has low, wide lapels, with only three little buttons at the front, a silk scarf-thing Roxas doesn't know what to call hanging from her collar like a poofy-tie thing… Roxas doesn't know much about fashion, but he thinks she looks very… elegant, her wild red hair tamed and pinned into a strange spiky pony-tail, bottle-green eyes accentuated with liner.

She's picking strands of her bright hair off the black shoulders of the jacket, muttering, so he absently dusts off a few that he can see. Lea looks down at him and their eyes meet. She breaks into a huge smile. "Oh Roxy-poo, you look so adorable I could just eat you up."

He flushes hotly, smoothing the line in his white dress pants. His cousin Naminé had helped him choose it; white and grey and a blue tie, nothing really fancy. "Shut it, I'm nervous as it is." She takes his hand, and he wishes he wasn't so sweaty, then he sees the sweat darkening her white collar.

"You'd probably be a lot cooler in a dress," he remarks, watching a bead of sweat roll gently into her hairline. He vaguely thinks he should find that gross, but he doesn't, not really.

She snorts. "Shut up, I'll sweat more if I think about it. Why did I bother with this foundation shit, I feel so itchy and I can't scratch or anything."

"I-I think you look nice," Roxas ventures, haltingly. It's so fucking weird. His stomach is full of butterflies, and he doesn't know whether it's cause the car is inching ever closer to their turn, when they'll have to get out in front of everyone, or cause Lea's giving him that smirk, that _you're such an obvious little dag _smirk, as much part of his teenagehood as his voice blowing out at stupid moments and those annoying blushes that light up his face like a fucking neon sign: loser, 24/7.

"Thanks, kiddo. I guess we're next, huh? Look sharp, yeah? God, I hope I don't fall over in these stupid things." He hadn't forgotten that she was wearing heels. She'd been prancing around in them all week, like a spindly daddy-long-legs.

Getting the hang of it, stalking at him with a mock-predatory look and an evil laugh, he'd realised 'redback' was so much more apt—

"Huh? Ah, yeah…" he stutters, and she gives his hand a squeeze.

"Come on, we'll be fine. I'm right next to you, so no worries, okay! Since when have you been shy of crowds, anyway?"

"Nah. I'm not, I'm fine," he says, and she smiles again, bright with nervous energy.

"Almost our turn," calls Cloud from the drivers' seat. It's handy having a cool older cousin who does up cars for a hobby, Roxas thinks, then he realises how strange it is to be sitting next to Lea in the back seat. They haven't done that since they were little, and Roxas' mum would drive Lea home, even though she'd blush tomato red and swear she was 'fine, Missus Roxases mum', she could walk back, 'there's a short-cut under the fence n'vrything'—

'SHE NOTHING LIKE A GIRL YOU EVA SEE BEFORE'

Roxas jumps out of his skin, as Cloud twists the volume up higher. Roxas can feel the bass vibrating in his chest, thanks to the giant subs sitting in the back. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he yells, and sees Cloud's eyes crinkle a smile in the rear-view mirror.

"You wanna make an entrance, right?" he says loudly, and suddenly they're stopping and their maths teacher in a suit is helping Lea out, and now he's getting out, and there are so many people, and they're all cheering, and cameras are flashing, and he's taking her elbow like they practised a couple of times, not enough times—

—and he glances up at her face, why is he so fucking short, he probably looks like an idiot—

—and she smiles, and it's all okay—

'I'M TRYN'A FIND A' WORDS TO DESCRIBE THIS GIRL WITHOUT BEING DISRESPECTFUL'

—and they're walking up the stairs, together, ohgoddon'tputafootwrong, now turn—

'DAMN GIRL!'

* * *

The formal was fun, Roxas thinks, twirling a silver decoration bauble he'd stolen off the table. They'd had to do that stupid dance, and being put at the same table as Seifer and his parents had been a bit of an ordeal, but overall it had been nice. His mum was very happy, anyway.

But in all, the after party was shaping up to be much more fun. Roxas thought it was pretty awesome of Hayner's dad to let Hayner host it, but he sure wasn't going to volunteer to clean up afterwards. Nope, tomorrow they'd be setting out early for schoolies, for Agnes. Which meant Lea couldn't drink, but she'd flat out refused to accept Roxas staying sober too.

He'd let someone, probably Selphie, press a drink into his hand which he'd sculled, being extremely hot and thirsty, only realising it was mainly vodka when he was coughing and holding an empty plastic cup. Then Olette had insisted everyone do a shot together, and… well, thinks Roxas, passing Olette and Hayner making out against the side of the house, perhaps she's done a few more since then.

"What are you doing wandering around out here?" came a hiss from behind him, and there's Lea, in jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair is still pinned up and her eyes are still dark. "Don't tell me you've started already. And you're still in your suit. Bloody hell," she says, taking him by the arm, "how I got myself saddled with you, I have no idea…"

But her tone is laughing, and the words had been repeated so often over the years that they had no bite at all. In fact, it makes something warm and stupid spread through Roxas' chest. He feels so fuzzy and high.

"My change of clothes was with yours," he explains as she drags him through the throngs of revelling graduates. "And you were _using_ it…"

Two more group shots and half a can of rum-and-coke later, they finally make it back to the car. "You didn't have to drink all of them, you know," she laughs. "Can't believe you didn't spill any on that suit."

Roxas thinks he agrees, but he isn't sure. But it is Lea, and Lea knows everything, so it's probably okay to agree. The world wobbles a little, and he leans heavily against the car.

"Fuck Roxas, you'll get dirt and shit on you if you—here. Sit in there," she says, opening the car door and half-shoving him in. "And get changed for fucks sake!"

Roxas lies there for a minute, looking out at the stars through the window. They look upside down, everything is kind of upside down, so he rolls over and fumbles for the bag.

"Fuck…" he grumbles, as his hands push around unsteadily. He draws out a strange blue thing and stares at it. It's some kind of cloth. Roxas concentrates really hard on pushing the vodka and rum and whatever the hell else back for a second, and works out that he is holding a weird dress. It's made of thin floaty stuff and doesn't seem to have much shape. Then it's being tugged in his hands.

"Hey," comes the laughing voice. "That's not your clothes, Roxas. Yours were on top of it. What are you doing?"

"What's this?" Roxas asks, staring up at her. The lights of the party are shining behind her, making the edges of her spiky hair glow. Like a star, he thinks, an upside down star.

"Oh, when Naminé was doing my makeup today she tried to get me to wear this. Last ditch attempt at getting me in a dress or something. I guess it ended up in my bag, sneaky little witch." She crawls in beside him, and digs out his shirt and jeans. "Don't tell me I have to change you. You're not that wasted."

Roxas laughs randomly, and she joins in. "You are so drunk."

"I am not. I'm just. I'm just. Go away, I'm changing."

She laughs again, and musses his hair. "Fuck you're cute when you glare like that. Ack, how much gel did you put in your hair? Gross!" She turns away, standing with her back over the open door.

Roxas manages to get the jacket off without much trouble, but there are too many fucking buttons on his shirt. Everything is too sweaty and gross and. He makes a frustrated noise, finally getting them off. Usually he would put his shirt on at this stage, but he figures he is on a roll here and starts on his pants. Dress pants have weird hook things and he decides he hates them, and then they are off, and where were his jeans?

"I wonder what I would have looked like in a dress," Lea muses to the air. "I mean, like hell I'd ever go out in public in one, but, I dunno. I mean, I hate wearing them. But, I'm meant to be a girl." She laughs wryly. "Maybe I should try it. Can't hurt, right? You done?"

She turns around, and her throat suddenly closes so tight she can't breathe. Roxas is sitting there in the stupid dress, fabric crawling up and down his thighs as he squirms around trying to do a button at the back.

She can't speak.

He gives up and flops down onto the car seat.

"What…" she begins. "What… what are you… Roxas?"

He huffs, and despite the fact that his face is a bright bright red, his voice carries no hint of embarrassment. "It's too fucking hot for jeans."

She stares for a long moment, then busts up laughing.

"Shut the fuck up and don't laugh at me. I'm tired."

"Oh, oh Roxas. I'm sorry. You're… oh…"

"Can't hurt to try, right?" he mumbles, pressing his face into the seat, and suddenly she gets it. She crawls in beside him, pushes his sweaty fringe back from his eyes with a tender hand.

"This a swap?" she murmurs, and he nods, the leather seats squeaking. "Oh Roxas… we need to get scientists to study your logic, I think."

But it doesn't matter, because she understands. Even if no one else in the world would. Even if Roxas himself didn't. There's something huge and bright and suffocating working through her chest, and she doesn't know what she'll do. No one else makes her feel like this, like she's melting and swelling all at once, no one else is quite this endearing. He's her entire world.

He's so beautiful, fluffy golden hair and a face like an angel, and the feel of his muscles under the fabric of the stupid floaty dress is making circuits fizzle in her brain.

And maybe that's why she leans down and kisses the corner of his mouth, even though she's not drunk, even though he _is_, and that's awful, and maybe that's why when he turns into it, surprised, she doesn't back away even though everything tells her this is a very bad idea.

There's no turning back from this.

And he breaks away a little, staring up at her with unfocused eyes and she thinks she might die, die if she moves and die if she doesn't, and he moves back in

And he sees barium fireworks splitting behind his eyes and he

And she holds him close and presses her lips into his, moves softly

And she's so soft, he can't quite

And he tastes like rum and coke, and it makes her smile into his mouth

And there's something shivering and new hovering between them, just under their skin, like it's been there all along, just sleeping. The thought flickers between the air between them, potent and tangible; they're leaving for schoolies tomorrow, a whole week of sunshine and the beach and partying, together.

It's all going to be okay.

* * *

_Omake_

(Two weeks later Pence and Olette are going through the photos he'd taken that night.

"Man, I can't remember taking any of these. I was so wasted."

"Oh my god!" shrieks Olette. "I don't remember kissing Hayner!" She burries her face in Pence's shoulder and he laughs.

"This one's a keeper. Facebook here we come!"

"Nooooo," Olette wails.

And then she stops.

"Who's that…"

"Haha, that's such an awesome picture of Rai, right up his nose, too! Wait, when were we out in the street?"

"No, I mean in the car behind him… the door's open, see?"

Pence bursts out laughing. "Lea got drunk Roxas in a dress? Oh man she is awesome. Remember that time she got him to bite an onion in grade five? Aha, I'm gonna have to text her and ask her if she took pictures!"

Olette is very pink.)

* * *

so kiss me like you did . my heart stopped beating . such a softer sin . I'm melting


End file.
